The doctor said ‘she has an hour or two left at the most, you can go see her’. I stood outside the halls of Grande hospital with a lost stare, unable to decide if I had the courage to walk inside the room and watch her take those last breaths. I slowly walked towards the alley, memories from my childhood, so vivid, all swamping my mind like they were just moments I had lived yesterday; echo of her voice buzzing my mind as I dragged myself to the cabin. I stopped outside the door to wipe away my tears and to prepare myself for this final goodbye . A goodbye to my childhood, a goodbye to those moments of utmost care and love that would now only live inside me as memories, goodbye to that person who weaved the most beautiful parts of my childhood, to that person who continued to pamper and nourish the child in me while I made my way through to adulthood……. a goodbye to a part of myself.

I opened the door of the cabin, expecting her to already be in a deep sleep induced by morphine that was slowing her breath gradually and even if it were not for the morphine, what could one expect from a person who according to the doctors had mere 60 minutes of her life and energy left on her hands. If the doctors had given her a deadline, it must be because her body was giving up I said to myself.

With the heaviest heart (not sure if that phrase explains the feeling) I walked up to the bed. She wasn’t asleep or in a deep state of unconsciousness as I had expected, instead she looked up at me with teary eyes, but it seemed like she knew that this was the end and it killed me to know that she knew. I held her hands, she looked at me and with all the air that she could gather, she gasped to me ‘Maiya, isn’t it Sunday today? Why are you still working?  ”

It wasn’t Sunday, it was Wednesday and I wasn’t at my workplace, we were in the hospital but those were the last words I heard from her, and that was the last ounce of love and care that she continued to shower on me even as she struggled through her final few hours in the world.






It has been more than a year now since my grand mum passed away, I have finally mustered the courage to open this blog that has remained incomplete since then – always ended up feeling a sore pain every time I tried to write. Not saying that the pain has gone away but I guess I have learnt to accommodate to it over time. Someone once told me, you don’t get over a loss like this, you simply learn to live with it.

Your bed, your pillows, your comb, the unfinished bottles of shampoo, bunch of bangles on your dressing table, the sweet smell of your hair oil everything brings back the fond memories and makes me feel warm from inside – I have learnt to find you in different places Maa. You dwell in the temples I pass by, in the faint smell of the incense you used to burn every morning, in those sweet dreams I get every now and then and in so many other places. You will always be my hero!



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